


Melting the Frost

by Looktotheedges



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Femslash, Gen, Metaphors, One Shot, POV Luna Lovegood, so who knows what's really happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Looktotheedges/pseuds/Looktotheedges
Summary: Luna turns to her in astonishment, watching as snow settles menacingly on her golden head. “Oh, I could certainly never leave now! Why, you have a serious wrackspurt infestation. It would be highly irresponsible for me to leave it unattended, you must understand.”“Wrack— what? I assure you, any infestation in my home and I would know of it. The house-elves keep me informed of such matters.”Oh, this is worse than she’d thought. She doesn’t even know!A few years have passed since The Battle of Hogwarts, and Narcissa Malfoy is holding yet another gala to raise money to refund the war effort and save her tarnished reputation. Thankfully no one has noticed her mask beginning to slip as she makes a quick escape from the festivities. Or have they? A certain someone is always on the lookout for pesky wrackspurts, after all...
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64





	Melting the Frost

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little one shot that popped into my head and wouldn't go away. The setting and timeline might not be very clear, but I hope that isn't too important. Delving into Luna's head was much more fun.

Luna wishes Ronald would move his head out of the way just slightly – his hair is a lovely shade of auburn, and normally she wouldn’t mind studying it so closely, especially when the wrackspurts have left him alone and it doesn’t clash with his complexion – but that is indeed the problem. The wrackspurts have found another target, and the frost is creeping in.

He hasn’t noticed that’s he’s blocking the view, too busy laughing with Harry. It’s good to see them laughing; they had been so sombre this morning. She decides not to disturb the joy in the air.

Instead she gives her champagne flute to Ginny and wraps her arms around Ronald’s neck, standing on her tiptoes – now she can see properly. She’s careful not to hold him too tightly, not wanting to crease his dress robes. Although she much preferred his robes from the Yule Ball. There’s no lace or ruffles on this one. She looks down at his back for a moment. No, not even on the back. She sighs in disappointment.

“Uh, Luna? You alright?” he squeaks.

She ignores him, her focus back on the other side of the ballroom, scanning.

“Harry, stop laughing and help me for Merlin’s sake. Or Ginny, come on Gin, gedder off me!”

Aha! There. And disappearing out into the cold. That won’t do. It’s much too early. Those pesky wrackspurts!

“Alright, okay. Luna, come on, I think you’re breaking his brain. You can hug me instead if you want. Is it the wrackspurts again? Or…um…blibbering humdingers?”

She pulls back from Ronald to stare at Ginny. “Oh no, you don’t have to worry about blibbering humdingers, Ginny, I’m wearing the radish earrings, see?”

And then she turns her gaze to Ronald. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve made your hair sad. It quite suited you for a moment. I’ll be leaving now though. I have a daffodil to find before the frost comes in. Your hair will be fine soon.”

She hears them call out to her as she leaves, but she bears them no mind, humming to herself as she makes her way through the crowd. Flowers are tricky things. Fragile. Not many people realise that…or perhaps it’s only her daffodil that they misjudge. It is in disguise after all.

She spins in her dress as she moves across the centre of the dance floor, lost in the music. It’s important to let music whisk you away, no matter the occasion – otherwise, what’s the point.

It gains her some strange looks, especially when the music bumps her into some couples, but she continues on her way. Strange looks are so common they’re almost comforting now. It means she’s being herself. A sure way to fight against the wrackspurts.

Soon she’s at the door, and she pulls her wand from behind her ear to cast a warming charm on herself. Daddy insists she takes better care of herself now, since the war. And Ginny. In fact, all of her friends are quite determined that she always be warm, dry and well fed. It is nice to have friends to remind you of these things.

She pushes the door open and squeezes through before it slams shut behind her in the wind. Just as she suspected. The snow has begun to make a bit of a fuss. No one was taking it seriously, too busy getting through the holidays, painting masks on their faces. There are rather a lot of painted faces these days.

And none as delicately crafted, as carefully maintained, as the one staring into the water down the garden path. Luna wouldn’t have even spotted the crack if it weren’t for the wrackspurts humming around it.

She walks down the steps, along the path, stopping at the edge of the pond and staring up to search for stars as the clouds part briefly. Oh, how they shine. How they stare back.

“It must be lonely, to be a flower amongst stars. You have done terribly well to outshine them for so long.”

“I beg your pardon?”

More ice. Does she not realise that there is only so much frost a daffodil can take before it withers? It is when it defeats the winter and peeks through, turning its face to the sunlight, that it is truly born.

Luna nods one last time at the night sky, and skips over to the stone bench, perching next to the woman and swinging her legs, kicking at the falling snowflakes. Take that! It’s not your time yet. Shoo!

“Miss Lovegood, I ask that you return to the festivities. If you have some quarrel with me after…certain events in my home, perhaps we may correspond at a later date. I already have a court ordered standing payment with your father. If that is the issue, I shall gladly address it. Now, however, is not the time.”

Luna turns to her in astonishment, watching as snow settles menacingly on her golden head. “Oh, I could certainly never leave now! Why, you have a serious wrackspurt infestation. It would be highly irresponsible for me to leave it unattended, you must understand.”

“Wrack— what? I assure you, any infestation in my home and I would know of it. The house elves keep me informed of such matters.”

Oh, this is worse than she’d thought. She doesn’t even know!

Luna reaches up to brush some of the snow away, batting at the wrackspurts as she goes. She’s just managing to tackle them when the woman stands, backing away.

“Miss Lovegood! Salazar’s snake, what is the matter with you?”

Well that’s not supposed to happen. Flowers don’t walk away, they’re not mandrakes.

“Oh, Madam Malfoy, you must listen. It’s terribly important!”

Oh, how to convince something to behave as it should when it feels that it already is. This is quite the puzzle. Perhaps she should have brought Neville, he knows a lot about plants, and more about people.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about! You’re talking nonsense!” the woman hisses.

Luna sighs. She thought she would understand. You must be able to see the world clearly to hide from it so well. How else would you know what not to do? Which face to show?

Well then. If she doesn’t understand, then talking will not help. It often confuses people further when Luna tries to explain herself.

Instead she slowly removes her wand from behind her ear.

Now the daffodil is truly frozen, roots embedded. At least it will not drift away too soon.

She waves her wand through the air, admiring how it parts the snow, muttering the incantation softly as she finally directs it at the woman before her, who flinches and then lets out a sigh.

“There. That should be warmer. Have you eaten, Madam Malfoy? It is something one must do, you know. I often forget to myself, it is rather bothersome.”

“I…no. No, I haven’t I—it seems to have passed my mind this evening. Being hostess does not leave much time for frivolities or flights of fancy, not that you would understand that. I shall eat later.”

Luna nods in understanding. So, warm, dry, fed and watered. What else does a flower need?

More talking then. Gosh, tonight is a tightrope. Thankfully she has taken some time over the past few years to work on her balance. She hadn’t known this was the event she was preparing for, but she’s glad she’d had some time since the war to practice, some friends to cling onto.

She slowly moves towards her, not wanting to scare her – one slip and she could shatter, brittle petals broken - and looks into her eyes. Pale, like her own, in the moonlight. Maybe they do see things similarly after all.

“I think you’ve been planted in the wrong pot for far too long, Madam Malfoy. You can’t expect to survive in such a harsh climate, no matter how strong you are.”

The flower stands tall, unbending in the wind. “I was not planted in a common pot, Miss Lovegood. You will do well to remember that I have grown from an ancient forest, a branch of a noble tree. I have been cared for as surely as my kin, with the best tools that money can buy.”

How marvellous! So she _can_ see. She does have her eyes open. Luna was starting to think that she was the only person in the world to be able to lift the veil. Ginevra peeks through on occasion, Harry sometimes, Neville perhaps. But to have someone throw it away and meet her eye to eye is quite the relief.

“A grand tree indeed. It must have been magnificent to behold, such a comfort to shelter under. I can see why you cling to it so dearly…and why the discovery of its rotten core must have been so heart-breaking. So easy to turn a blind eye to. Your petals are so beautiful, I would hate to watch them fall.”

The other woman sniffs at her. “That is no concern of yours. Now, if you would leave me be, I can take care of my own garden, thank you, I have for quite some time.”

And the veil becomes a mask, fine chiffon turning to porcelain before her eyes. Oh, china doll, how alive you seemed.

Some say dolls come to life only when you are not looking, others that they are brought to life by love, often from a child.

Luna sits back down on the bench, staring up at her. “How _is_ your dragon? I haven’t had the chance to see him tonight. I hope his fire is burning bright. I was pleased to hear he had found his spark.”

The other woman looks back to the water, arms curling around her waist. Luna looks to the water too. To their reflection. Sometimes looking at something backwards tells you more, it seems.

“He is very well, thank you. Shining bright as the sun. I’m very proud.”

“It is nice for you to have him as your sun, it does warm you so. I hope his rays are still reaching you this winter. You may have spun from his reach…or him from you.”

The woman turns sharply to meet her gaze, a thundering crack in the ice. Ah. So that is why the frost is creeping in.

Luna hops down from the bench and comes to stand before the other woman, reaching up to tuck some golden hair behind a cold ear. “What a silly sun. He should know to stand steadfast. Without light, there is no life. Without gravity, the planets set adrift. As a humble moon, I know I cannot stand in his place, but I should like to offer up what little light I have.”

“And– what do you–” A frustrated sigh.

“Why, Miss Lovegood? After everything my family has done to you, after everything _I_ have done to you, why offer me comfort tonight? Why offer me your aid?”

The snow is falling heavily now. She is glad for the warming charm, and whilst it is pretty, she still feels the snow clouds are being rather over enthusiastic.

She raises her wand to the sky, muttering an incantation, and a translucent umbrella sprouts from the tip.

She gently lowers her arm, grasping her wand tightly as the snow patters on top, resting just above their heads.

She turns to the woman next to her, meeting her eyes once more. Yes. These eyes do see her. Perhaps she is beginning to thaw, out of the wind and the cold. Out of sight of other, veiled eyes. Light, shelter, food, water. Talk to them, Neville says. Love them. Oh.

She stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to a cold cheek.

“You have been exposed to the wilderness for so long, Madam Malfoy, I thought perhaps you would like to shelter from the cold with me. Spring is on its way, but first the nights must draw in. I hoped to remind you that the end has not yet come.”

“I— Thank you, Miss Lovegood. That was…very thoughtful of you. Perhaps I— the clouds are heavy tonight. For a moment I could not see the stars, and despite everything I do miss them so, when the night is so very dark.”

Luna smiles at her as she transforms. Even Headmistress McGonagall could not have undone such a masterful transfiguration. A daffodil once more.

“The stars will forever shine, Madam Malfoy, but you have your roots in the ground. You may appreciate their light as much as you wish, but do not let them turn you from the sunlight. Many days lie ahead, and there is always room to grow, as long as you do not become lost in the frost.”

And so they stand, looking out over the water as the world blurs white – a daffodil warmed by the moon. 


End file.
